


Keep me close

by Obnoxious



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Under the Red Hood (2010), DCU, DCU (Comics), Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Good Slade Wilson, Hurt, Hurt Jason Todd, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Jason is safe with Slade, Jason isn't safe as long as the Joker is around, Jason loves Slade, M/M, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Not Canon Compliant, Protective Slade Wilson, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slade Wilson is Deathstroke, Slade loves Jason, Slade loves having apprentices, The Joker is a Monster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:01:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27339844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Obnoxious/pseuds/Obnoxious
Summary: Eighth day of Slade/Robin Week 2020 - Free dayHe leans forward again, conspiratorially, and his mouth morphs back into that pained mockery of a smile, all yellow teeth, chapped red lips and just wrong. “I would never kill you or the Batman, where would be the fun in that?!”, he cackles again, laugh ringing in Jason’s ears as he scoots closer, an arm snakes underneath Jason to hold him by the shoulders. “I’ll let you in on a secret, you’re my favourite Robin. Now don’t tell the others! I wouldn’t want to hurt their feelings. But this little party here is in your honour, just for you!”Jason falls into a trap and gets kidnapped by the Joker. Slade is worried and goes looking for the missing bird.
Relationships: Jason Todd/Slade Wilson, Jason Todd/Unknown Male Villain
Comments: 6
Kudos: 132
Collections: SladeRobin Week 2020





	Keep me close

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again!
> 
> So this is my submission for the free (8th) day of this years SladeRobin Week. There is a rape occuring in this story, but no graphic depiction of the act itself.
> 
> Once again, thank you so much for all the kudos and lovely comments I received on all my works for this event! It truly makes me so happy! Thank you so much for the support!
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

It was a trap. Of course it was a trap. 

Jason should have seen it coming a mile away. He cursed himself out, he wanted to beat the shit out of himself. It wasn’t a rare sensation for Jason to feel the need to hurt himself, but this time, he really wanted to beat himself up. Badly. To the point of maiming.

There was nobody else to blame but himself for the situation he found himself in, and that is what made it worse. If he had at least someone else to blame this mess for, focus his anger and resentment on them instead of himself.

He shouldn’t be surprised. He wasn’t, to be fair, this was his life. He was just so exhausted of it all. The seemingly endless fights, set-backs, broken hopes and broken promises. Disappointment after disappointment. And now this. 

It all started by a tip from one of his usual informants in Crime Alley, some homeless dude he had been gathering information from for some time in exchange for money and food and a warm place to rest if the guy felt like it. Jason had enough safe houses in the area that he could afford to repurpose one or two of them as homeless shelters of sorts.

The guy had told him he had some information on a human trafficking ring linked to Black Mask that had rounded up several dozen children in a warehouse on the docks of Gotham and getting ready to ship them off to god knows where.

Shipping them off like they were nothing more than merchandise. Little children, sold off into slavery.

The thought alone had Jason’s blood boiling.

The guy had even had an exact location, and a pretty close approximation of the time all this was supposed to go down.

This should have been the first red flag.

But Jason had to act fast if he wanted to save those children. There was no time for background checks or a lengthy stake-out, that is something that Bruce never seemed to understand, when there are innocent lives on the line you don’t hesitate, you act. Or so Jason thought.

He didn’t ask for back up, of course he didn’t. When the Red Hood says he works alone, he means it, unlike Batman. Why would he ask for back up from the man who had cut open his throat with a goddamn batarang? He may be homicidal, but not suicidal.

That wasn’t entirely true, but it didn’t matter at that point.

He arrived at the warehouse soon after, and sure enough, there was a large truck with a shipping container loaded on it’s back and what appeared to be two faceless goons patrolling the premises.

The Red Hood had made quick work of the minions, neutralizing them effortlessly.

Once he made his way inside the abandoned warehouse through the ceiling window he encountered four more thugs that didn’t pose a major challenge either and quickly found themselves laying on the floor, out cold.

It had been way too easy, not enough security. That should have been the second red flag.

He didn’t see the children, but he heard them, crying. Desperately calling for help, terrified and confused.

They were locked inside another shipping container that was placed against the far side wall of the otherwise empty structure.

He broke the lock holding the metal doors shut, opened on of the doors and stepped inside.

Instead of a terrified crowd of children, he came face to face with a recording device, playing the sounds he had just heard on high volume from a set of speakers.

“What the fuck…”

That definitely was the third and last red flag.

As it dawned on him what he had gotten himself into, a set of strong arms wrapped around his torso and a syringe was plunged into his exposed neck between his hood and the high collar of his armor.

Damn, he hadn’t even heard them creeping up behind him.

A kick to the shin and another with his knee right in the guy’s balls after he spun around brought the first one to his knees. The other one, needle still in his hand, was rammed into the metal walls of the shipping container with a high kick aimed at his head.

That was all he managed to do before he started to waiver on his legs, his head spinning as darkness engulfed him.

Before he was completely knocked out though he heard that laugh, that horrible laugh, growing higher and louder, almost deafening, before it tuned out as he lost his consciousness.

He hoped that laugh had just been a hallucination. 

He knew damn well he wasn’t that lucky.

____________________________________

Begrudgingly, he regains his consciousness, somewhat.

His whole body feels like it has been stuffed with cotton, it is the weirdest feeling ever. A headache mercilessly pounds behind his left temple, just above the eyesocket. He hasn’t opened his eyes just yet, remaining completely still. His mouth is so dry, the tongue sticking to his palate. He would kill for a glass of water right about now.

He positively does not want to wake up. What was about to come couldn’t be nice, especially if that freak was involved.

He somehow registers that he is laying on a bed, on top of one of those old spring mattresses that squeak when you move or shift on top of them.

He also registers the light filtering through his closed eyelids. Sunlight, it seems. So it was day about now.

His arms are stretched out over his head, somehow tied to the bed, no doubt. He doesn’t know whether they used handcuffs or zip-ties, as he hasn’t moved an inch as of yet, and his hands feel numb. Depending on what and which model they used, it would be easier or more time-consuming to get out of them.

His legs are slightly spread, probably also attached to the legs of the bed. He can feel a slight breeze against his legs. So they are naked. He can feel fabric against his torso though. Not completely naked, then. That’s somewhat of a relief.

He tentatively opens his eyes, momentarily brightened by the harsh light. He looks up at a crumbling, water-stained ceiling, once white long ago, now a dark yellowish shade, like someone used to smoke a lot in this room. It reminds him of the ceilings in his childhood home, the crappy apartment Willis, his mom and he used to live in, only a stones throw from Crime Alley. 

The bed he has been strapped to is situated in the corner of the room. To his left there is a window, an old wooden frame, most of the formerly white paint chipped off, consisting of only one layer of glass. Jason can see the sky outside, bright and blue, no clouds, the sun shining into the room. Metropolis weather. So unusual for Gotham. He hopes they are still in Gotham.

Jason turns his eyes, gazing down at himself. He gasps in surprise, startled at what he sees.

He is dressed in the Robin Uniform. Not the current one, the one he had worn. The red tunic, held together by a belt, green scaly shorts peeking from underneath, the yellow cape draping around his shoulders. He even wears those, frankly, quite ridiculous pixie boots.

“Rise and shine, little Robin! It’s another beautiful day to be fighting crime!”

Jason feels like the air has been punched out of him and he chokes.

He had been expecting, he really had, but that didn’t make it any more easy.

That shrill nasally voice, the stuff of nightmares, his nightmares to be exact.

There are few people Jason is really, genuinely scared of.

Willis Todd had been one of those people.

Batman has become one of those people.

The Joker terrifies him in ways he can’t explain. He wants to be strong in front of that clown, but every time he is confronted by him, he has to fight against turning back into that frightened fifteen year old again.

He looks to his right, and there the man, no, that creature, stands, wearing his purple suit, the jacket hanging over the back of a chair next to him, his gloves off, green hair, pale face, mouth contorted into a painful looking smile, painted red. He is also wearing a pair of those old-timey, two coloured shoes. 

A deep sense of dread fills him as he is about to stir, and realizes in horror that he can’t move, his muscles not responding, seemingly atrophied. 

It takes him immense amounts of willpower and strength to move his limbs just a little bit, managing to turn his legs ever so slightly from left to right, barely shrugging his shoulders.

He finds it difficult to breathe.

He starts panicking. 

What the hell is wrong with him?!

“What have you done to me?” he manages to screech out, almost hyperventilating.

“Now now, take a deep breath and calm down fella!” the Joker says as he makes his way over to Jason, the mattress squeaking under his weight as he sits down next to Jason on the bed. “I just administered you with a harmless little neurotoxin that makes your muscles go sleepy sleep, if you will!” The freak laughs out loud like it’s a really good joke. “I know you birds are all flexible and kind of stuff and I didn’t want you to run before the party had really started, so I thought it best to put them to rest!”

“You should still be able to feel though”, Joker continues as he puts a hand on Jason’s thigh. Jason’ skin tingles as the cold pale hand makes contact, which would have usually been followed by a shudder through his whole body, but his muscles twitch only slightly.

He wants to vomit at the sight of this...this monster touching him, feeling the bile rise up to his throat. He wants to grab the freaks neck and squeeze it tight. He tries to get his arms to move, but all he gets as a result for his struggles are a few twitches of his muscles. This was starting to drive him crazy.

“Get your hands off of me!” he shouts, trying to lunge forward, unsuccessfully. 

The Joker’s grin grows wider as do his eyes as he cackles. “No!, This feels nice.” He makes it a point to stroke his hand up and down the expanse of Jason’s thigh. “I was surprised to see you shave your legs. A remnant from your Robin days, I guess. Old habits die hard, amiright?!”

A mental image of the Joker undressing him and putting him in the Robin outfit etches itself into Jason’s mind. That freak had taken off his clothes while he was unconscious and seen him naked? Now he really wanted to throw up, straight onto that sicko’s face.

Jason feels the rage boiling hot in his stomach, rage and desperation. Why does it always have to be him, just why? He glares daggers at the clown next to him. “You are sick!” he spits out, the venom dripping off of his tongue. He should have killed the motherfucker when had the chance, why hadn’t he?

Oh yes, Bruce. Could that man do anything else besides fucking his life over? It’s a hobby at this point, it has to be. Maybe he has bets going on with Dick and Tim.

The Joker cackles again, loud and hard, laughing himself breathless. “You are so amusing little Robin, tell another one!”, he blurts out. The hand on Jason’s thigh squeezes. “I’m just happy we are back together again!” 

He side-eyes the maniac, scowling, his lips twisted into a sneer. “What are you going to do now? Kill me?”, Jason snarls.

The Joker draws his torso back, a hand on his chest, both eyebrows lifted, feigning surprise and hurt. “Me!”, he yelps, “Why would you expect that from me Jason?”

He leans forward again, conspiratorially, and his mouth morphs back into that pained mockery of a smile, all yellow teeth, chapped red lips and just wrong. “I would never kill you or the Batman, where would be the fun in that?!”, he cackles again, laugh ringing in Jason’s ears as he scoots closer, an arm snakes underneath Jason to hold him by the shoulders. “I’ll let you in on a secret, you’re my favourite Robin. Now don’t tell the others! I wouldn’t want to hurt their feelings. But this little party here is in your honour, just for you!”

The Joker retreats a little, letting his gaze glide over the length of Jason’s sprawled out body. When the Joker speaks next, his voice sounds different, much lower pitched, dark, almost like that of a normal man.

Aroused. It makes Jason’s stomach churn.

“Seeing you like this I’m kinda jealous, not gonna lie. You really are a treat in that sinful little costume...and since Harley left...”, the clown mutters, trailing off, that disgusting hand still on his leg. His grin turns wicked: “Don’t you worry little bird, from what I can see, Richard Grayson got nothing on you.”

Suddenly he sits upright, clasping both his hands in front of him, that nasal, high-pitched voice back again. “Well, it’s going to be a show for me, at least! A party! It’s fun!”, he shrieks excitedly.

“What the fuck are you talking about,” Jason demands, getting agitated. What has this fucker in store for him now?

“He’ll be here soon”, the Joker answers, looking on his wrist where there is no watch. “I believe you’ll thank me, I’m fulfilling one of your fantasies, Robin! It’ll be a blast!”

A few minutes later, the old wooden door opposite them creaks open and Batman steps into the room.

Jason’s heart leaps in his chest and he almost can’t believe his own eyes.

Batman is here. Bruce came to find Jason and rescue him from the Joker. He can’t believe it.

The Joker stands up from the bed and walks to meet Batman with another fit of laughter. “There you are, right on time! Well, what do you think pal, did I disappoint?!” he asks, arms outstretched towards Jason.

Jason stares at both men and his stomach falls. He gets a good look at Batman.

The suit is wrong, outdated. 

That isn’t Bruce’s stubbly chin and cheeks peeking out underneath the cowl.

This is what the Joker was referring to. The sick fuck had asked someone to show up dressed as Batman.

Jason could guess what would come next. 

They would torture him. The guy dressed as Batman would probably hold a monologue how Jason was a failure, a disappointment, not worthy of the Robin mantle. How much better his Replacement was. How Bruce didn’t love him, had never loved him.

How original. Toying with his fears and insecurities, never been done before.

He’ll get through this tough. He’s been tortured before. Hell, he died in an explosion, he can survive this. Long enough for the effects of the toxin to disperse and make his escape.

This wouldn’t be nice, but he could manage it. Maybe the Bats had caught up to his sudden disappearance and were looking for him. Maybe this would come to an end even sooner. A Robin could hope.

The Joker wouldn’t kill him, that he does believe. Like the freak said, there’s no long-time fun in that. He already did it once. The clown is not used to killing the same person twice.

“Batman” bridges the distance between him and the bed as the Joker closes the door. 

“Robin, I came to save you!” “Batman” growls, mocking the dark signature rumble of the original. Jason can’t see the guy’s eyes behind the white lenses of the cowl, but he does seem familiar. Definitely a Gotham rogue.

Where did the Joker get these costumes from? The Robin uniform Jason’s wearing just fits too well, and seems nicely made too. Maybe they are selling these as Halloween costumes now?

“Batman” grins, showing off slightly crooked but surprisingly white teeth. “Yeah, I like this. You didn’t disappoint, clown.” he says, in his own dark, gruff voice. He licks his lips.

Oh.

On the other side of the room, Jason sees the Joker fidgeting with something. A camcorder. “I knew you’d love it!”, he cackles, “Robin, you just close your eyes and think of your Daddy!”

“Batman” climbs onto the bed, the mattress squeaking and squelching under the guy’s considerable weight, on his knees, kicking Jason’s legs out of the way and positioning himself in between.

Jason tries again getting to move his limbs, but to no avail. All he can feel are his muscles uselessly twitching underneath his skin. He is trapped.

“If you don’t want me to cut your damn head off and feed your eyeballs to the sewer rats you better get away from me!” Jason roars, glaring at the man on top of him. If looks could kill, he would be nothing but ash by now.

The Joker laughs out loud, folding in on himself. “Oh, oh, that mind of yours, Robin! You’re just like me!”

“Batman” smirks, his gloved hands stroking over Jason side and hips. “You’re so fierce, little Robin. You’re just a sidekick, don’t you forget. Seems Batman needs to put you back in your place!” he laughs, leering, back to mimicking the Bat growl.

“Please, do just that Batman!” the Joker screeches, directing the camera on them. “Come on little bird, smile for a change! Why so serious all the time. You’re finally living your dream!”

Suddenly, the Joker folds in on himself again, in another fit of laughter. “Oh, oh, I have an idea! Should I smoke some cigarettes while I watch?! Remember, Robin! Like your mommy, back in Ethiopia! The good old days!”

Jason feels sick to the stomach. This is about to happen, and there is nothing he can do to make it stop.

“Batman’s” grin turns feral as he puts his fingers under the waistband of his shorts, tugging down.

The mattress won’t stop making that horrible screeching sound.

Jason misses his old life so much. But it was all a lie anyways.

The sky is so blue in Gotham that day. 

\----------------------------------

Slade knows something is up when Jason doesn’t respond to his text messages.

They have a deal, always respond to text messages as soon as you can, if you don’t, the other will assume you’re in some kind of trouble.

Jason hadn’t texted back in over sixteen hours. This is very unusual for him. He might not be replying for a couple of hours max, if he’s in the middle of a mission or a fight.

This is way too long and it’s the early afternoon of the next day already.

The bird needs help.

Slade works on his computer, working to locate the kid’s helmet. Jason does not have any trackers on him or on his uniform, but his helmet does emit signals with all the tech it’s equipped with, and if you know what you’re looking for and have the adequate technology, you can pick them up.

He just hopes the helmet hasn’t been destroyed and that it’s still on Jason’s head, or nearby.

He and Jason have a … complicated relationship.

He had first met the boy when he had still been with Talia and the League of Assassins. He had met him before during his tenure as Robin, but only fleetingly. During those years, he had mostly interacted with the Titans, not so much the Bat and his little Robin.

It had somewhat saddened him to see the boy like this, deep in the thralls of the pit-madness, confused and lonely and nothing else than a pawn in Talia’s ridiculous play of tug and war with Bruce Wayne.

It was pathetic to see, Talia’s obsession over the man of Gotham. But he wasn’t the only one. Jason too was desperate for Wayne’s love and attention. But he was just a kid. And Wayne hadn’t been there for him, as he should have.

He was somewhat relieved at the thought that the same fate hadn’t befallen his own deceased son, Grant.

After Jason’s return to Gotham and nearly being killed by Batman himself, the kid had one day turned up at his place and demanded to be trained. He even offered money, a large amount of it.

Slade accepted. He still doesn’t exactly know why. Maybe it had been that charming little smile, the hopeful glimmer in his pretty blue-green eyes. Maybe it had been the prospect to grab his perky ass during sparring sessions, absolutely accidental of course. But he had said yes.

At the beginning, he had told himself it was purely for the money. Also, he loved training other people. Maybe it was the teacher in him, or the drill sergeant, he doesn’t know. 

Back in the day, he had tried to convince Grayson to become his apprentice, because he had seen so much potential and talent in the young man, but that he was holding back. Under Slade’s tutelage, the boy could have become a truly formidable fighter.

With Jason though, he had never thought of him like that. Until he had accepted to become his teacher and really payed attention. The second Robin is an excellent marksman and rarely misses a shot. He is agile, fast and flexible, good combination for hand on hand combat. His biggest problem is that he is easily distracted, so that is what Slade focuses his training on.

In the end, he hadn’t even taken the kid’s money.

They had fallen into bed together once. Suffice to say, Slade wants it to happen again.

But the kid is holding back. Like he’s afraid of commitment. Afraid of letting someone love him. Afraid of getting hurt again.

After several minutes of running his scanner, his computer finally picks up on a signal.

He puts on his gear and heads in the direction the signal is coming from. It takes him approximately thirty minutes until he arrives in front of an abandoned apartment complex next to the rail-tracks in the Narrows. 

It’s in the afternoon, and the streets are moderately busy with people, coming in and out of the few bodegas, shops, bars and eateries lining the streets. Most of them heed him no mind, not at all surprised or shocked by the appearance of the mercenary in broad daylight. This is Gotham for you.

Once he enters a small alley, he heads for the roofs using the fire escape. He observes the building for several minutes, determining that it is unguarded and seemingly vacated. That doesn’t mean that Jason can’t be inside. 

He looks at his wrist computer. Sure enough, it is this building the signal of the Red Hood helmet is coming from.

He enters through a smashed in window on the second floor of the building. He lands in an empty one-room apartment. The structure must have been built in the early twentieth century to house the growing population of low-income workers headed to the city from the south, back in the day when Gotham was a booming town that promised a better future.

How things have changed.

He makes his way through the crumbling structure, all the while checking the little monitor on his wrist for when he is getting closer to the signal.

On the third floor, behind the last door on a long, narrow corridor, he finds who he is looking for.

The door isn’t locked, barricaded or booby-trapped, it’s just closed. He opens the door, and it’s the first room he finds that has some furniture in it. 

Next to the door stands an old rickety wooden chair, in one corner, there’s a wooden dresser with three drawers, one drawer missing, and opposite, underneath the window, stands the bed, the frame made out of metal, slightly rusty and most of the fake gold overcoat chipped off.

On top of the old mattress lies Jason Todd, dressed in an old Robin uniform, bound to the bed.

This is bad. Worse than Slade had feared.

Jason isn’t looking at him, but staring at the sky through the window instead. The green scaly panties are pushed down to his ankles, and there’s that smell in the room.

Slade starts feeling queasy in his stomach. He doesn’t know what to do, how to react.

If the room was filled with a villain and his minions, he would know what to do. If he had barged in in the middle of Jason getting tortured, he would have known what to do.

But here he didn’t know what to do. 

What Jason had been subjected to was a kind of torture Slade wasn’t familiar with.

You could call Slade a murderer, a killer, a monster, whatever you wanted, but he would never...he didn’t fuck with rapists. And that was a line that most villains, even the likes of Penguin and Lex Luthor, didn’t cross, or so he had thought.

Silently, he makes his way over to Jason and stands next to him. From this close, he can see the hickeys covering his neck, collarbone and thighs. His tunic has been unbuttoned to his waist, exposing his chest. Fluid is leaking out of his…

Slade doesn’t dare touch him. He takes a deep breath.

“Kid...”

“He drugged me with some kind of neurotoxin, I can’t move my muscles” the kid rasps out, voice strained, still not looking at Slade. Still looking out the window.

That explains why he is still in his constraints. Otherwise these would be child’s play for him to get out of.

“Who did this?” Slade demands, trying to keep his voice calm, still not daring to make another move.

“The Joker caught me” Jason answers, his voice a low monotone.

Slade feels his hands curling into fists.

Oh. Alright.

Slade was going to kill that motherfucking clown.

That of course would break Batman’s heart, seeing as he is so attached to that guy.

Slade doesn’t care, if Wayne is going to interfere he is going to break both the man’s arms and both his legs.

Suddenly, Slade thinks he knows how Jason must feel when he’s overtaken by the pit-madness.

Now is not the time though. The kid needs him.

Slade clears his throat. “I- I will put your panty- pants back in place and get you out of those restraints, alright?”

Jason nods, the tiniest movement of the head.

Carefully, Slade slides the panties over Jason’s thighs back in place, careful no to touch the boy’s skin. He easily breaks the cuffs linking Jason’s wrists to the headboard, as well as the ropes tying his pixie booted ankles to the bed-posts.

Under other circumstances, Slade would have found Jason in his Robin uniform the hottest thing ever, and he wouldn’t be the only one. Now though, it just makes him physically sick.

Usually, Slade isn’t violent, he kills quick and silently, but with the Joker, he probably would have no other choice but to torture the guy before ending his miserable life.

Seeing as Jason can’t move, Slade has no other choice than to carry the kid in his arms.

Slowly, he leans over the bed, cupping Jason’s cheek in his hand and turning the boy’s head towards him. He is reluctant touching him, considering what he went just through, but he will be touching him anyway once he carries him out of the building.

The kid doesn’t flinch, big blue eyes staring back at him. His expression is unreadable.

“The Joker had someone else come in, dressed as Batman. He did...” Jason trails off, those eyes still on his lone one.

Slade huffs.

So he will be killing two men. Alright.

“Come on, kid”, he says instead, “let’s get you out of this dump.” He slides one arm underneath Jason’s knees, the other one around his waist and lifts him up against his chest, head slumping against his shoulder.

Jason doesn’t protest, and it fills Slade with a weird sensation to know that the kid trusts him that way.

That has been another one of Jason’s weaknesses, he gives out his trust way too easily. But Slade won’t betray that trust. He swears to himself he won’t.

Jason’s Red Hood gear is still in the room, but Slade can come back at a later time to retrieve it if Jason asks him so. Now, the important thing is to get Jason to safety. He decides to take Jason to his penthouse in the Diamond District. It’s the nicest place he owns in Gotham and has top notch security.

Slade has no Agent A that could send over the Batmobile to retrieve the both of them and Wintergreen did not come to Gotham with him, so they have to figure out another way to get home.

They could jump from roof to roof, Jason’s not that heavy and Slade’s super strength nullifies that as a possible issue anyways. It’s not like they could just take a taxi back to Slade’s place.

Well, technically they could, but Slade’s pretty sure Jason wouldn’t appreciate the peering eyes of a taxi-driver and of bypassers, considering the state he’s in.

So Slade makes his way up the stairs to the roof of the building. Confidently he grapples and jumps from roof to roof, Jason secure in his arm, his face buried in his chest, almost too silent, until they reach Slade’s apartment.

Slade heads straight to the bathroom and fills the tub to the brim with hot water. He gets Jason out of his Robin uniform, bunches it up and throws it into the corner, and lifts the boy into the bathtub. Jason slowly regains control over his muscles as Slade lathers his hair with shampoo and tenderly rubs his skin with a washcloth.

After the bath, Jason is still wobbly on his legs, and Slade leaves him wrapped in the biggest towel he owns sitting on the edge of the tub as he goes to retrieve some of his clothes from the master-bedroom.

The black t-shirt and gray sweatpants are way too big for Jason, but they’ll have to make do for the meantime.

He doesn’t even think before scooping the kid back up in his arms and heads back into the living room to sit on the couch in front of the TV.

Jason positively clings to Slade, his hands scrunching the fabric of his Ikon suit he hasn’t changed out of yet, his eyes on the floor.

Slade feels lost for what to do.

He decides to break the silence. “Is there something you want to watch on TV?” It’s a stupid thing to ask but what else is he supposed to say?

“I’d-”, Jason swallows hard before continuing, “I’d like to watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer”, he rasps out.

“Ok”. Slade thinks he remembers his sons occasionally watching that show back in the day. He watches as Jason logs into his Netflix account with shaky hands and the show starts playing.

Around the middle of the second episode, Jason starts to shake, his shoulders trembling and his lips wobbling as tears run down his cheeks. He cries silently, body convulsing, but not making a single sound, while Slade holds him close on his lap, slightly rocking them, rubbing his back and pressing kisses into his wet black curls.

Slade’s going to kill that clown, make sure that monster can never hurt Jason again. He will also find that guy in the Batsuit. Batman might not think so, but Jason is worth it to be avenged.

\---------------------------------------

Alfred goes to open the door as the doorbell rings.

The mailman stands outside, a bunch of letters in his hand. He smiles as he holds out a small electronic device with a touchscreen and a plastic stylus. 

“You need to sign for one of these, please” the man says. 

Alfred puts his signature in and takes the mail as well as the special delivery envelope. He waves the mailman goodbye and closes the door. 

The envelope has nothing on it except the address of Wayne Manor, no return address.

After Alfred ensure himself that the envelope poses no threat to them by running it through a scanner, a detonator or pouch containing liquid or gas, for example, he decides to open it. 

The envelope is empty except for a compact disc.

Alfred frowns.

On the CD, written with a sharpie, it reads “From the Joker, with Love”.

Bonus Scene:

Charlie is standing by the window, watering the plants, when he spots movement on the rooftops of the buildings opposite his.

This is not that surprising, considering Gotham has it’s fair share of vigilantes, but it’s a bit early for them to be out and about town. The sun is still shining outside, after all.

Charlie can barely believe his eyes though. The two figures he has spotted are Deathstroke the Terminator carrying none other than Robin in his arms! 

What the fuck?

They are jumping from one roof to the other. Apparently, Robin has gone back to wearing green panties. Is that even the current Robin? What is going on here?

“Hey Julie, come here! I kid you not, here is Deathstroke carrying Robin bridal style just on the other side of the street!” he excitedly calls out to his roommate.

Julie, who is sprawled out on their couch, doesn’t look up from the magazine she’s reading. “I told you to stop watching that weird porn with actors dressed up as Superheroes, Charlie”, she answers, unimpressed.

Charlie sighs. By the time he turns back around, Deathstroke and Robin are gone.

**Author's Note:**

> So here for the End Notes I wanted to share a few of my personal thoughts regarding DC, this has nothing to do with the story above, so you can skip this if you want.
> 
> I'm just at a point where I don't want to give any of my money to DC anymore. I don't know if some of you read The Three Jokers, this is only my opinion of course, but the only redeeming quality I see in that comic is the beautiful artwork. I mean Jason Fabok's art is just gorgeous, Jason looks like a total babe, serving cakes for days, and Batman is such a daddy, but the story itself...wasn't it supposed to be about the three Jokers? It's nice to finally have it on record that Bruce loves Jason, but like, apart from that... And then they have the audacity of basically representing Jason as some kind of abusive douchebag like: "hey Barbara, if you don't date me, I'm gonna go full batshit crazy and violent again, it's your responsibilty lol". Like, no.
> 
> And then, I recently saw a post by DCUniverse on twitter that basiacally went: Dick's the cute Robin (that's all he is guys, cute), Tim's the smart one, Damian's the annoying one (okaaaayyy...cool) and Jason's the one we like to beat up for all the stupid shit he does. I mean, really DC? You don't want my money that bad? Alright. It even had a picture of Robin laying in the rubble of a collapsed building, I mean come on. The fifteen year old kid we decided to let perish in an explosion, how funny.
> 
> DC, please:  
> -stop using Barbara Gordon as nothing more than a sexual prop to the Batboys, it's 2020 not 1920, stop embarrasing yourself. Casual misogyny, not a good look.  
> -stop misrepresenting Jason Todd as some kind of asshole to further the narratives of the other characters involved.  
> -bring Roy Harper back from the dead and make JayRoy canon IMMEDIATELY. I will throw a tantrum otherwise.
> 
> Sorry for this little rant. If you don't agree with me, that's totally fine, it's just an opinion. I'm just fed up with the direction DC's been going in the last few years in general and with Jason Todd in particular. I had really high hopes for The Three Jokers, suffice to say, they were not met.   
> #FreeJason #LeaveJasonAlone


End file.
